


Petal Pink

by roosebolton



Category: Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician), Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Schneewittchen | Snow White (Fairy Tale), Snow White - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Fingering, Hozier Snow White Project, Love at First Sight, M/M, RPF, Rimming, Romance, True Love, True Love's Kiss, good ending, yes I typed the sex words right by the fluffy fairy tale stuff I sure did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-29 19:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roosebolton/pseuds/roosebolton
Summary: Young Aindriú is spared from death from a vengeful ruler and grows up alone in the forest. Sometimes things happen for a reason.(Andrew as Snow White.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriousthorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousthorn/gifts), [RembrandtsWife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/gifts).

_ one long-limbed with willow’s grace, _

_ the greenest eyes, the fairest face, _

_ just-kissed lips of petal pink, _

_ shining curls like sepia ink, _

_ you were loveliest, that is true, _

_ yet this one far surpasses you _

She seethed with rage, fists held shaking at her sides, fighting the urge to _ break _ the wretched mirror once and for all. For weeks, months, years, decades, _ centuries _ even, without fail, every time she had inquired of the mirror it had informed her in its sing-song voice that _ she _ was in fact the most beautiful creature in the land.

Her beauty was her strength. From a young age, everyone around her commented how kind and lovely she was, from her delicate copper ringlets to the perfect smattering of freckles across the bridge of her tiny nose to her wide blue eyes, the colour of sapphires set against her near-pearlescent skin. As she got older, as children do, she grew into a more mature and less childlike beauty, and those who would have called her a beautiful child started seeing her as something _other,_ something fey and sinister, something to be coveted rather than cherished. The time came when she realised she could use her body as a shield to mask her true motives, teaching herself how to move with such preternatural grace as she had been afforded to bend others to her will, yet not overtly enough that she could not plausibly deny she was doing so. She became a kind of siren, her body the fateful call that men - and some women - could not resist. In time, she tested her wiles against even the High King, and found him lacking. She had been married to him mere days before she tired of him, deposing him and crowning herself High King - for who was there to gainsay her?

She had held onto that power through the beauty she wielded to gain it. It was her one obsession, and it would be her downfall.

She called to one of her maids-in-waiting.

“Bring me the groundskeeper,” she said, as sweetly as she could muster.

“But he--” 

“Please.”

Before long, though perhaps not quickly enough for the impatient High King, the maid returned with a gruff-looking man, his callused hands and worn shoes stained dirt-brown and grass-green from his constant work in the gardens. He kept his eyes low until he was addressed, one hand proffering a rose from the gardens, the velvety petals a deep, dark red, almost the colour of blood spilled under moonlight. The High King took it delicately in one hand, twirling it between her fingers as she spoke.

“Groundskeeper, I have an unusual job for you.”

He looked up with mild alarm. The High King’s tasks were not always pleasant. The maids-in-waiting looked at one another, curious. As if noticing them for the first time, the King gestured for her ladies to leave the room. The one who had brought the groundskeeper pouted, but they left in single file, closing the heavy oak door behind them.

“You must swear to tell no one what I am about to ask of you. If I find out you have broken my confidence in you, I will have you killed without question.”

The groundskeeper bowed his head. “I will not speak of this, Your Majesty.”

“Good. You know the… my_ former consort’s _ youngest child, yes? The one whose seventh birthday we just celebrated?” she said, smiling brightly.

“Of course.”

“I would like the child to… disappear.”

The groundskeeper took a deep breath. “Disappear as in taken away to another kingdom far from here, or disappear as in…” He coughed, drawing his finger across his throat as though slitting it.

“The latter.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“If you won’t do it, I shall find someone who will, and then I will have them do the same to _you._”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he added hastily. “Do you have a… preferred method, or…”

“I don’t care, as long as it is done far away from this castle. It might be best if you made it look like an accident. Children do go wandering in the woods far too often, you know.” She sniffed as though briefly saddened at the idea. “But… I will need proof.”

“What kind of proof, Your Majesty?”

She thought about what the mirror had said. _ Shining curls like sepia ink. _ Her own hair had been her glory in her youth.

“Bring me the child’s heart, wrapped in those… bark-brown curls.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’ll give you a special box to put it in. Just a moment.” She disappeared into her wardrobe for a moment, returning with a small box inlaid with mother-of-pearl, the perfect size for a child’s heart. When she placed it in the groundskeeper’s hands, he felt it vibrate slightly. 

“I swear to you, you will be giving me my greatest treasure. Go with haste, before the child is missed.” She stooped to kiss the groundskeeper on the forehead chastely, a king’s blessing, before shooing him out with both hands. “Go. Now.” He nodded curtly, tucking the special box into his rough jacket, leaving the heavy door open on his way out, the High King’s maids rushing back in the room to ply her with courtly chatter, having been unable to listen in on the conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

With a heavy heart, the groundskeeper patrolled the castle grounds, looking for the child. He had nearly given up and was considering returning to the castle to wait for the child to return home for the night when he heard a distinct childlike giggle from behind a hedgerow. Standing on tiptoes, he peered over the hedge, and sure enough, a youngster crowned in chestnut curls sat cross-legged on the grass, a tiny sparrow feeding from one upward-turned palm. The groundskeeper quietly walked around the end of the hedge, enough to cause the sparrow’s immediate flight. The curly-headed child turned to look at the man over one shoulder, green eyes momentarily wide with surprise, then smiled in recognition.

“Hello, Groundskeeper. You scared away my new friend.”

“Sorry about that. Birds have never been fond of me, as I’ve spent many years chasing them from the garden. They tell one another, you know.”

“I know. She told me someone was coming, but I didn’t believe her at first.”

_ Talking to birds. A child’s fancy, _ thought the groundskeeper.

“I see. Young one, will you walk with me? I need to talk to you about something.”

The child brushed both hands together, leaving the seeds behind for the birds, alerting any who might be within earshot with a quick whistle.

“Of course, Groundskeeper. Please help me up.”

The groundskeeper held out one hand, which the child grasped with both hands, rising fully and brushing any remaining birdseed away.

“Where’re we going?” the child said, smiling brightly.

The groundskeeper pointed in the direction of the forest. “This way,” he said, solemnly.

They walked silently toward the trees for several minutes before the child spoke. “Do you have a name, Groundskeeper? It seems silly to call you that all the time, but that is the only way Mother speaks of you.”

“She isn’t your mother.”

“I know, but that is what she likes me to call her. I don’t want her to be mad. And it would be odd to call her Your Majesty like everyone else does, right?”

“A wise choice. You know, she only calls you ‘the child’. I wonder if she even knows our names.”

“Maybe she just likes titles best. They seem very important to her. That’s why she’s the High King.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He squeezed the child’s hand. “In any case, my name is Liam.”

“Oh. That’s easy to remember. I’m called Aindriú by… well, everyone except Mother. Do you know what her real name is? I’ve always wondered.” 

Liam bit his lip thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t believe I do. She has only been Her Majesty, the High King, before that she was the Queen, and before that I did not know her.”

“I see.” Aindriú nodded. “Are we going into the trees? Mother says I’m not allowed. I’ve always wanted to. I think it’s okay if I’m with you.”

“It was her idea, actually. I’ll explain everything once we’re out of sight.”

The pair entered the forest, Aindriú’s tiny hand clutching Liam’s much larger one, until they reached a fork in the rough-trod path. Liam stopped, kneeling down in front of the child. 

“I have to tell you something important, and I need you to know that this isn’t a joke.”

“You don’t seem like the joking type.”

“The High King asked me to bring you out here to kill you, child. She wants me to bring her back your heart.”

“Mother said that? She doesn’t make jokes either.”

“She did, upon the pain of my own death if I refused. She said I’m to bring back your heart wrapped in the curls from your head, to show that I’ve done what she asked of me.” Liam produced the mother-of-pearl box the High King had given him. “I’m to return to her with all of that in this special box, you see.”

“Oh. You’ve been very kind to me, and the birds love your garden. I wouldn’t want her to hurt you. So I promise to lie very still while you take out my heart. I’ll do my best to be very brave and not cry.” Aindriú smiled gently, if a little sad.

Teary-eyed, Liam took the child into his arms in a tight hug. “That’s the thing, Aindriú, I can’t bring myself to kill such an innocent. I’m going to find a heart for her, to pass off as yours. I can’t imagine she’ll be able to tell the difference.”

Aindriú breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m glad of that. I really didn’t want to die just yet. There are too many things I haven’t done. But where will I go?” 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here in the forest, dear child. It would be both our deaths if you were seen on the castle grounds. There is a cabin deeper in the wood where you can sleep. I will be able to visit at first, but after a while you may be on your own.”

“That’s all right. I’ll have the birds for company when you’re gone, and maybe other creatures I haven’t met yet. There are deer and mice and foxes in here. The birds told me so. They’re afraid of the foxes.”

“I see,” said Liam, unsure if the child was inventing stories or telling a strange truth.

They turned right at the fork, eventually coming across a small cabin, walls formed from stacked logs, the thatched roof twined with several years worth of ivy. Liam opened the door for Aindriú, who walked in and immediately looked up at the ceiling. 

“What kind of place is this? Does no one live here?”

“No, no one lives here now. It used to be a temporary home for hunters, back when your father allowed outsiders to come here and hunt. It has since, obviously, fallen into disrepair, but it’s the best place I could think of for you to stay.”

“It’s a lot smaller than the Castle, but that’s okay. The Castle is too big for me anyway, I get lost sometimes.”

“Think of it as your own castle, Aindriú, and the forest your own kingdom.”

The child smiled brightly, shaking a head of chestnut curls. “No, I don’t think I would want to be a High King like Mother. Not if that’s how it makes you act.”

“I don’t think she acts that way because she is High King, I think that she became High King because of the way she acts - when you’re that mean, people tend not to want to cross you.”

“Oh. I would be a nice King then, if I could do that. I think that would be better.”

“I agree. Perhaps one day, when you’re older, you may get to find out.” He ran a hand through Aindriú’s curls, pulling a sharp knife from the holster at his side. Aindriú’s eyes went wide.

“I… I thought you said you weren’t…” the child stammered.

“No, no, child, I won’t hurt you, but if I’m to pass off an animal’s heart as your own, I shall have to cut your hair, since that was part of the High King’s instructions.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” 

Liam gently twined his fingers in the child’s curls, cutting them as quickly and painlessly as possible, leaving behind a few lopsided tangles, unfit for the child of a King. He kissed Aindriú’s forehead.

“May your hair grow back as lovely as it ever was, child. And may the gods of forest and sea bless us both.”


	3. Chapter 3

Over time, Aindriú grew. Under the watchful boughs of the trees of the forest and the creatures they housed, what had been a beautiful child eventually became a tall, fair young man with a tangle of dark brown curls, long-legged and clumsy, gentle and kind and helpful to his animal neighbours.

When he first started his life in the woods, it was fraught with difficulty. At first, Liam came once a week, bringing what little he could manage to tuck away - blankets, clean water, a comb for his curls once they grew out, and, thoughtfully, a bundle of his own clothing for Aindriú to grow into. After a while, once a week became once every two weeks, then once a month, and after a while he stopped coming altogether. Aindriú thought of him often, but he had no way of knowing whether Liam was alive, imprisoned somewhere, or worse - dead.

The first creatures whose trust he gained were the songbirds. Though not the same birds that he chatted with on the castle grounds, they seemed to understand when he spoke to them. The birds chirped to the deer and the foxes and the rabbits and the mice, and before long the animals had accepted him as one of their own. The deer led him to cool, clean water, and the rabbits and squirrels showed him which berries and leaves and nuts were safe to eat. In time, he was able to plant something of a garden in the back of his cabin, with seeds and seedlings brought to him from somewhere far off that only the birds knew.

He found it hard to think of eating the creatures of the forest, since so many of them had helped him, but since his fellow residents of the woods had no such qualms about eating one another, at times he hunted with the carnivores and shared meals with them. He learned to catch fish by making a net as he’d seen the fishing spiders do down by the river, after one chance encounter with a bear left him falling in the water with a splash when he tried to catch his meal as bears do, with sharp teeth and claws.

He always gave thanks to the food he ate, whether animal or plant, because he was grateful to be alive.


	4. Chapter 4

When the groundskeeper brought back the mother-of-pearl box, the High King was overjoyed. She had never seen something so lovely as the small heart wreathed in dark curls, a symbol that the child could never surpass her in beauty ever again. So confident was she that she had her magic mirror covered, supposedly in mourning for the lost child, though she never took down the black cloth as years went by. 

It was on a dark, cloudy day, many years later, that she considered her mirror. It always told the truth, after all, and there were many questions she could ask of it - questions of war, of weather and the harvest, of  _ love _ , if she ever cared to ask such a thing.

And yet, when she pulled the black cloth down and caught her own reflection in the mirror, without thinking, she asked again:  _ magic mirror, at my command, who is the fairest in the land? _

Its response was far from welcome.

_ the heart that’s wrapped in chestnut curl _

_ once came from deer, not boy or girl, _

_ what then was child has grown adult _

_ yet mirror you did not consult: _

_ the fault is yours, you did not ask _

_ if groundskeep e’er completed task _

_ for this one grew to adulthood _

_ still living near, in yonder wood _

Shocked, she stammered, “How can the child be alive, and so close? Where, what wood? I know that insufferable groundskeeper went to the forest, but… a child can’t survive on its own…”

The mirror sat silent until, enraged, she threw the mother-of-pearl box at it, breaking it in such a way that she saw her reflection multiplied amid the spiderweb cracks.

Once she had calmed down, she pulled out an ancient tome she rarely touched, one that held forbidden magic meant to be used only in the most dire of circumstances.

To the High King, the situation of which the mirror had spoken most definitely fell in that category.

Licking her finger, she thumbed through the well worn vellum pages until a heading caught her eye:

_ Poisons. _


	5. Chapter 5

The High King draped herself in a shabby cloak and commoner’s dress, her face disguised so as to appear as a kindly old woman, and filled a wicker basket with apples from the castle kitchens. She dipped the shiniest, most enticing apple in the poison mixture she had concocted, placing it on top of the basket once it dried. She chose the quietest, most well trained horse from the stable, offering it one of the unpoisoned apples before mounting it and heading for the woods.

Not far into the forest entrance, she dismounted her horse, tying it to a tree and proceeding on foot. She had never explored the forest, but she followed the marked path until she hit a fork in the road, initially going the wrong way before she doubled back and went the other direction, her heart filling with anger once she saw the smoke coming from the cabin in the distance.

Clearing her throat and testing her sweet old woman voice a few times, the High King knocked on the door to the cabin.

When the door opened, she was surprised to see a tall tree of a young man, a pleasant, kind expression on his face, with the same crown of curls he had worn as a child. She kept the false smile on her face, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“Hello, dear lady,” said Aindriú with a genuine smile. “What brings you here? I have never had a visitor.”

“Would you like an apple? You look like you could use a good meal, fine strapping boy that you are.” She held out the poisoned apple to him, turning it so that it sparkled in the sun. Aindriú’s moss-green eyes sparkled likewise, his mouth watering. He shook his head to clear it.

“Only I’m sure I’d never deserve such a delicious treat,” he said, humbly. “Are you going to market to sell them?”

“Surely enough, darling boy, but I have plenty, as you can see. Please, have a sample of my wares. I insist.” She smiled as sweetly as she could muster, her anger nearly bubbling over, and held out the poisoned apple to him.

Aindriú took the apple in his long, spindly fingers, delicately, so as not to bruise, and made great show of taking a big bite. 

He smiled for only a moment. Swallowing his first bite, his eyes went wide, and he dropped to the floor, clutching his throat. 

Making no move to help him, the High King smiled as the poisoned apple rolled across the ground to her feet.


	6. Chapter 6

It was customary for young princes to tour the surrounding lands, to understand their neighbouring kingdoms and perhaps introduce themselves to the folk living there. The borders between kingdoms were not always strictly defined lines, to be certain, and it could not hurt to be comfortable at your own borders.

Alsander Ó Riain was making his first journey of this sort, accompanied by his brother Pádraig, who had already made his tour a year or so in the past. They wore matching doublets of black velvet, their insignia of a crowned fox set high on the breast, rust-colored breeches covering black hose, and black riding boots with a slight heel to help keep them from slipping out of the stirrups. Alsander carried a short sword at his side; his brother favoured a longer sword strapped to his back. Pádraig was dark where Alsander was fair-haired, but it was very apparent that they were brothers, and brothers close in age.

Alsander readied his horse, a great, gentle, snow-white beast, blanketing the stallion in formal colours, making it obvious to all who saw: _ this is a prince’s horse. _Pádraig’s chestnut mare was less formally adorned, but both horses wore the same crowned fox insignia as the brothers.

Once they had finished preparing, they mounted their horses in turn, and with much fanfare from their family and friends and the other residents of the palace, they set off on a journey that would take many days’ ride.

When they were far enough out of town that they could speak freely without fear of others listening in, Pádraig brought his mare up to ride side by side with Alsander’s stallion. He reached over and tapped his brother on the shoulder.

“May you have better luck than I did when I took my tour.”

“Luck? I’m not sure how luck enters into it. We’re riding in a circle ‘round the kingdom and then coming home,” said Alsander, without looking over at Pádraig.

“We are, but we’ll meet a lot of new people, which means a lot of new _ ladies._” Pádraig smiled cheerfully at the thought. “Perhaps you’ll find true love where I didn’t.”

Alsander shook his head, ambivalent. “I don’t care about that kind of thing. If it happens, it happens, but I’m not going to look for love in the face of every pretty girl I meet. I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Ah, but if you _ aren’t _ looking for love in the face of every pretty girl, how will you ever find it?”

Alsander didn’t have a response for that.


	7. Chapter 7

Pádraig and Alsander rode for two days, stopping at small inns each night, drinking and making conversation with the locals wherever they went. On the third day, their route took them into a deep, thick forest, the trees vibrant and green, the path so narrow they had to ride single file, Alsander taking the lead.

The further they went into the woods, the harder it was to see the sky and track the sun’s path to see what time it was, and after a while they decided it was likely late enough to try and find shelter for the night, even if it was not yet time to sleep. An hour’s ride or so from that point, they spotted a building in the distance, the only such building they had seen in the forest since they entered it. There were no lights in the window, but the cabin did not look too badly in disrepair.

Alsander glanced back at his brother. “Shall we see if anyone’s at home?”

Pádraig nodded. 

When they arrived at the cabin, Alsander dismounted his horse, handing his reins to Pádraig. “Stay here and keep watch. I don’t anticipate anything happening, but if you sense foul play…” Alsander shook his head. “Be my lookout, like when we were kids, all right?”

He walked to the cabin door and knocked, listening for a response, but heard nothing. “Hello? Anyone home?” He knocked again, harder this time, and the door creaked open ever-so-slightly. Warily, he walked inside, closing the door behind him.

What he saw inside was not what he expected. On the left side of the room, its headboard against the wall, was a bed, and resting on top of the covers was a young man, his face shadowed with stubble as if he’d shaved a day or two prior, his hair deep chestnut and curly as gnarled tree roots, surrounding his face like a dark halo. His eyelashes were long and dark, his skin fair, and his lips a perfect rose-petal pink.

Awestruck by the curly-haired beauty, Alsander quietly stepped closer, almost hypnotised by the sight. He bent down, cupping one shadowed cheek in his palm, yet the man did not stir. He laid his other hand on the man's chest, which was warm, yet his breathing was so shallow he appeared to be dead.

_ No use for it, _ Alsander thought.  _ If I walk away now, I will surely regret it. _

He braced himself against the bed, leaning in, his blond eyelashes lowered, and pressed his lips to Aindriú's petal-pink mouth, his heart leaping in his chest. He drew back, holding his breath.

At first, nothing happened - a moment suspended in time - and then...

Aindriú opened his moss-green eyes with a gasp and a cough, sitting bolt upright and leaning to one side of the bed to hastily spit out the piece of poisoned apple. Alsander gingerly rubbed his back, Aindriú jumping slightly at his touch before leaning into it.

"Are... you all right?" asked Alsander quietly.

Aindriú cleared his throat, touching the front of it with one hand, a worried look on his face. "I think so, now. Sorry for pulling away, too..." He blushed a little. "I haven't been touched by another person in ages."

He looked over at Alsander, their eyes locking for the first time, the bright spark between them almost palpable. 

"Who are... I mean, I'm..." Aindriú began, before words ceased completely, and he found himself pressing his lips against the lips of this beautiful stranger who had awoken him from the sleep of death itself. They remained that way, locked together in a kiss, breathing each other's air, for more than a moment before Alsander climbed in bed with him, wrapping his arms around Aindriú, the beautiful mystery he found himself impossibly drawn toward, whose name he did not yet know.

Aindriú, trembling, placed a hand over Alsander’s heart, the fine velvet of his doublet doing little to mask the fast pace of his heartbeat. He used his other hand to grasp one of Alsander’s, placing it likewise over his own heart, which was beating just as fast. Strangely in sync with one another already, Alsander began unbuttoning the too-large woven shirt Aindriú was wearing just as Aindriú gently pulled the top laces loose from Alsander’s doublet. Wordlessly, they shed the outer layers of clothing, Alsander tugging off his long-sleeved undershirt, tossing it to the side. They pressed their bodies together, wrapping arms around each other once more, skin to skin, kissing gently, lovingly, as though this were something common and fond rather than happening between two men who had barely met. 

“Is this… is everything fine?” Alsander asked, between breaths. “May I touch you?” he said, awkwardly, as though he had not already done so. “...Again, I mean.”

Aindriú stared at him, wide-eyed and distracted, gathering his scattered thoughts. “Your voice is a balm,” Aindriú whispered reverently. “Soothing. As though I’ve known you all of my life.” As an afterthought, as though he had only just noticed the question, he added, nodding softly, “and yes. Please.”

Alsander softly ran his fingers down Aindriú’s chest, past a thin, long-healed scar, and rested them at his waistband. Staring into Aindriú’s eyes, he proceeded lower, placing his hand between the other man’s legs, cupping him through the thick trousers he was wearing. Aindriú’s eyes went wide, his cheeks flushing pinker by the second. He moved his hips slightly, just enough for the tiniest bit of friction, exhaling audibly. Gingerly, Aindriú reached his long, thin fingers down to touch Alsander in the same way, unable to resist gently stroking him there through the soft fabric of his breeches. Alsander’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes going wide as Aindriú’s had.

“Perhaps we should--” Alsander began, at the same time Aindriú uttered, “Can we--”

They both laughed, with sheepish grins, Aindriú unbuttoning and pulling off his trousers as Alsander loosened and tugged down his boots, breeches and hose as quickly as he was able, leaving them in a very un-princely pile on the floor near the bed, his belt and weapon clanking noisily as they fell. 

And then, two men inexperienced in love, who really knew nothing about one another, lay facing each other, wearing nothing but the expressions on their faces.

Aindriú glanced downward, seeing Alsander just as aroused as he, and delicately placed his hand there on the other man. Alsander nodded in encouragement, reaching his own hand down to curl Aindriú’s long fingers around himself, moving Aindriú’s hand up and down a few times before moving his hand to touch Aindriú in the same way, his hips rocking him gently into Aindriú’s fist. Aindriú marvelled a moment at Alsander’s warmth, moving his own hips without thinking.

“If you’ve done this before, you might have to guide me. I don’t have any experience with other people, only what I’ve read in books and… what I’ve watched the animals do. I mean, I’ve only ever touched myself.” Aindriú bit his lip.

“I admit I have lain with maids more than once, but I fear this may not be  _ quite _ the same.”

“I’m… I mean, if you’ve both got… then… which one of you mounts the other? How do you decide?” 

Alsander laughed. “...I think maybe we take turns.” He brushed a strand of hair out of his face with a grin, tucking it behind his ear.

“Then we should, ehm…” Aindriú gently pulled away, rising to his hands and knees, rocking back and forth a little, full of nervous excitement. He looked over at Alsander, who leaned up to briefly kiss his mouth before scooting to the other end of the bed.

Rising to his knees and moving behind Aindriú, Alsander hesitantly laid his hands on Aindriú’s thin thighs. 

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you,” said Alsander, leaning down to kiss Aindriú on the tailbone, “so I have to do something to… ease the passage here.” He traced a finger lightly down the center of Aindriú’s backside. 

“I trust you,” said Aindriú quietly, and they both knew that it was true.

Delicately, Alsander parted Aindriú’s flesh, exposing him to view, blushing at the fact that his rear entrance was nearly the same petal pink as his lips. He pressed his own lips to Aindriú there, briefly, before tentatively sticking out his tongue, lapping softly a few times before pressing into him, slowly, a startled gasp escaping Aindriú’s mouth. He built up a rhythm, encouraged by Aindriú’s panting each time he re-entered, before stopping for a moment.

“If it’s all right, I’m going to use my fingers, too,” said Alsander, himself pulsing with desire and anticipation. 

“Yes. Please don’t stop, you feel wonderful,” Aindriú said, almost out of breath.

Alsander put one finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before pressing gently at Aindriú’s entrance, Aindriú sighing blissfully as he was entered, rocking back against him. Leaning in, Alsander kept lapping at the skin around Aindriú’s entrance while his finger was moving, making gentle circular motions inside for a little while before pulling out, replacing it with his tongue once more. He repeated this little ritual with two fingers, then three, before pulling away with a quick kiss on Aindriú’s backside. 

Taking a deep breath, Alsander positioned himself behind Aindriú, gripping the other man’s hips and adjusting his angle so he could enter him more easily. He quietly spit into his hand, readying himself with a few quick strokes before pressing against Aindriú’s entrance.

“Are you sure?” Alsander asked, holding steady in that position. In response, Aindriú pressed back against him, no longer capable of words, just a long, guttural moan as Alsander entered him. Alsander gasped, surprised at how easily and perfectly they fit together, rushing into him, only stopping once he was hilted in Aindriú as surely as a sword. He held fast to Aindriú’s hips then, enjoying the feel of being held by him, surrounded by his heat. The insistent pulse of their commingled heartbeats drove them on, rocking against one another in sync, Aindriú’s moans seemingly growing louder with every thrust, his curls bouncing each time Alsander entered him fully. 

When it became apparent that Alsander wasn’t going to last much longer, he wrapped one arm around Aindriú’s slender waist, taking him in hand and stroking him in time with his increasingly frenzied thrusts, Aindriú moving as quickly as he could in return. Aindriú came first, his back arching and his head thrown back, spilling hot over Alsander’s hand. Alsander caught Aindriú’s hair in his other hand, fingers tangling in the dark curls, only needing a few good thrusts before he finished, too, his hips straining to push him even deeper, a low moan finally escaping his lips. 

Alsander let go of Aindriú’s hair, planting a tiny kiss partway down his back, the only place he could easily reach. 

“We should…” Alsander trailed off, forgetting what he was going to say.

“Ehm, clean ourselves up? But you’ll have to come out of me, then, and I don’t want you to,” said Aindriú quietly. Alsander wrapped both arms around him, still inside.

“I don’t want to, either.” He rested his head on Aindriú’s back. “I think… I could stay like this for a long time.”

“You could, you know. Stay, I mean. I could--” Aindriú began, before he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

From outside, Alsander heard Pádraig’s voice.

“What in the hell are you  _ doing _ in there?”


	8. Chapter 8

After a rather embarrassing round of introductions - Alsander attempted to introduce his brother to Aindriú before realising he didn’t yet know his name - the three men made plans to leave, for the brothers couldn’t stay, and for as little time as Alsander had known Aindriú, he could not bear to leave him behind. Since there were only two horses, tall Aindriú rode behind Alsander on his white stallion, his arms around the other man’s waist, both of them enjoying the closeness and the feeling of each other’s warmth.

They rode in silence for a while before Pádraig started asking questions.

“How did you come to live by yourself in the middle of the woods with no one around?”

Aindriú rubbed his face against Alsander’s velvet doublet thoughtfully before responding. “When I was very young, a man brought me here, because my mother wanted to kill me.” After a moment, he corrected himself. “Well, she wasn’t really my mother. She married my father, and then… I was never quite sure if he was still alive somewhere, or if she killed him, too. I assume that’s what happened. Anyway, after that, she styled herself High King and no one dared say otherwise.” Looking around, he pointed towards the southwest. “Our kingdom… well, her kingdom is that way.”

Pádraig dug his heels in, halting his mare. “You were raised in a castle, and your father was the King?”

Alsander likewise halted his stallion, turning to face his brother. Aindriú nodded. “Until just after my seventh birthday, yes.”

“Then that would make you some sort of prince, yeah? Same as us?”

“Right, I think so - though I can’t really be sure, since Mother only ever referred to me as ‘the child’.” Aindriú frowned. “She never bothered to learn anyone’s names, I don’t think. They weren’t as important to her as titles.”

Pádraig held up a finger, his eyes glancing to the side as though he’d had a thought he was on the verge of forgetting. “Wait. My brother said you coughed a piece something up after he woke you, that you’d seemed dead before that, hardly breathing.”

Alsander leaned back to whisper in Aindriú’s ear: _ I didn’t tell him how I woke you... or what happened after. Just so you know. _Aindriú blushed. “I… I’m not entirely sure what happened, or how I got in the bed. The last thing I remember was a strange old woman with a basket of apples. She offered me one, I resisted at first, but it looked so juicy and delicious that I… The last thing I remember is taking a bite. I must have choked on it, or...” He rubbed his face, frustrated that he couldn’t remember anything in between the old woman and Alsander’s kiss.

“Maybe it’s time we pay your mother a little visit. You know, for old times’ sake,” said Pádraig, with a wicked grin. “I’m sure she’d _ love _ to see you. And if she doesn’t, well...” He drew the sword on his back out a few inches, then sheathed it.

“If it’s not too much of a detour. I do have questions for her.”

Alsander snorted. “Questions like, _ why did you try to kill me when I was but a child of seven years who had never done you harm? _ That kind?”

“...Ehm, yes. That kind.”

“All right, then. To the castle we go.” Pádraig led the way this time, Aindriú’s arms tightening around Alsander as they followed.

The brothers’ finery and manners allowed them easy entry into the castle grounds, the guards hardly giving Aindriú a second look. With a simple “We’re here to see the High King, she should be expecting us,” they were in.

“Do you remember where things are? It’s been a while, but…” Alsander asked, leaning his head back against Aindriú. 

“Ah, ehm, stable is that way, I think?” He pointed. “That should be the first place we go.”

Once their horses were stabled, fed and watered, they headed into the castle proper.

“Is it strange to be back here again?” asked Alsander.

“Yes,” replied Aindriú. “...If you follow the centre hall, it leads to the throne room. I don’t know if she’ll be there, though, she spends a lot of time in her chambers.”

“To the throne room, then,” said Pádraig. He and Alsander walked shoulder to shoulder, with Aindriú behind them both, tall enough to see over them anyhow. The three of them walked with purpose, like they belonged, and the guard at the throne room door’s only question was how they should be announced.

The guard opened the heavy throne room door. “Pádraig and Alsander Ó Riain, Your Majesty, and…”

Aindriú stepped forward between the brothers. “Aindriú.” He took a deep breath. “Hello, Mother.”

The High King was seated on the tallest throne, the shorter Queen’s throne having been empty for years. Her hair was a wreath of wildfire, her body draped in blue silks the exact colour of her eyes. When she caught sight of Aindriú, she gripped the ends of the armrests so hard her knuckles went white, but her facial expression didn’t change. “Hello, child.”

The guard, long used to the High King’s moods changing like the tide, exited the throne room, closing the heavy door behind him.

Aindriú made a few more steps toward the High King, Alsander and Pádraig close behind him. 

“I’m not…” he began, considering his words carefully. “Since I know it’s what you fear, I’m not here to do to you what you tried to do to me. I just… I have some things I want to know.” Aindriú stepped as close as he dared to the High King and knelt down on one knee, inclining his head in deference briefly before raising his gaze to hers, gently, without defiance.

The High King paused for a moment, watching him, and then, quietly, “You may speak.”

“Why did you try to have me killed? I was only a child, yet you wanted the groundskeeper to cut out my heart. He showed me the box you gave him and everything.”

The High King looked down at her hands. “I couldn’t very well do it myself.” She cleared her throat. “You were a threat.”

“A threat? How in the world is a seven year old child a threat? I should--” interjected Alsander, before Aindriú touched his arm and shook his head. He seethed with obvious anger, but didn’t finish his sentence. 

“Was I a threat to your Kingship at that age? I mean, generally the succession doesn’t happen until an heir becomes an adult, so…” Aindriú tilted his head.

“The mirror said…” The High King licked her lips. “I had a magic mirror, you see, that only spoke the truth.” She leaned back a bit. “For so long, it had told me that… that I was the most beautiful in the land.” She gritted her teeth, realising what this sounded like when she said it out loud. “Until the day it said that _ you _ had become more beautiful than I, at the tender age of seven. I could only imagine what would happen as you got older, so… I tried to take care of the problem.”

Aindriú unsuccessfully stifled a giggle. “You… you wanted to kill me because a _ mirror _ said I was more beautiful than you? I… don’t mean to laugh, it’s just…” He glanced at Alsander, who shrugged. 

The High King ignored him and continued. “Much later, when I found out you were still alive, I tried to poison you. I thought I had succeeded, and yet… here you are.” 

“That was _ you _?” Aindriú almost shouted, before regaining his composure. “I would never have recognised you. I mean, I figured you were behind it once I… came back to life, I guess… but I had no idea it was you. I didn’t even know you could, ehm, do magic like that. I have to say I’m impressed.”

The High King stared at him, an awkward expression on her face, not used to genuine compliments. “Thank you…? I think?”

“Mother, what I don’t understand is why you ever asked the mirror if you were the most beautiful. I mean… beauty is subjective, and who knows what a mirror’s tastes are like? Else, the person who enchanted the mirror might have preferred something like… I don’t know, hair as black as coal and lips as red as blood. That sort of thing.” He smiled brightly. “Besides, can you really know for sure if the mirror told the truth?”

She considered this last bit. “I suppose not.” She ran a hand through her hair, thinking. “For a very long time, I’ve been under the impression that my beauty is all I’ve got. It’s never been my wits or my ability that’s attracted other people to me, so I suppose… the idea that it might fade, that I might be… superseded by another… even so young as you were, it frightened me.” She covered her hand with her mouth, surprised at her own words.

“But that’s not true. You _ are _ very beautiful, but you’re also clearly talented at magic. You’re a natural leader, though you could stand to be less harsh; it makes people afraid of you. I’d bet you’re a good strategist and problem solver, else you wouldn’t be where you are, beauty or not.” He paused. “Also, I know you can sing. I heard you from your window when I was playing in the gardens.”

This time, she blushed.

Aindriú rose to his feet and gestured to the brothers. “I also wanted to introduce you to Pádraig,” he indicated him, “and Alsander. He is the one who woke me from sleep,” he said, squeezing Alsander’s hand.

The High King raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

“I have no desire to take your place on the throne, Mother. I wanted you to know I’m leaving and travelling back to their kingdom with them.” He grinned. “You’ll definitely be the most beautiful in _ this _ land.” 

“Don’t test me.”

“Sorry. Only it is, ehm, traditional to, ah…”

“To…?”

Alsander cleared his throat. “To ask the father for permission to marry the daughter, usually, but this is a bit of an unusual case, I think.”

“You’re asking permission to… marry? Shouldn’t you be asking the parents of whoever you’re marrying?” 

“I’m asking _ you_, because you’re the only parent he’s _ got_.” said Alsander, impatient.

Pádraig held up a hand. “Before you two dance around this any more, Your Majesty, my brother is asking for permission to marry your son. Stepson. You know, _ him._” He gestured at Aindriú. 

“Ah,” she said. “I see.” She inclined her head. “You have my formal permission.”

Aindriú smiled warmly. “I thought you might. Seems as though it’s a good solution all round.” He held out his hand to the High King, who graciously took it, rising to her feet. Though she stood on a step and he was on ground level, Aindriú was still quite a bit taller. 

He took the High King into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, and spoke so quietly that only she could hear. “Fear makes monsters of us all,” he said, gently stroking her wild hair. “and I know that you’ve done terrible things because you were afraid.” She held fast to him in that moment, allowing herself this one time to be vulnerable. “I wanted you to know…” he whispered into her ear, “Étaín, I forgive you.”

She tilted her head up sharply. “How do you know my name?”

He smiled, a sparkle in his eye. “A little bird told me.”


	9. Epilogue

The brothers and Aindriú finished their circuit of the lands surrounding their kingdom - Aindriú’s kingdom now, too, after all - and returned home with much fanfare. Since Pádraig was eldest and therefore the heir, there was little resistance to Alsander and Aindriú wanting to be married, and the city was alight with visiting forest creatures the day of their wedding, the air echoing with birdsong as they took their vows, with Pádraig as witness and best man being eyed by more than a few ladies. 

The High King changed in the following years, her short visit with Aindriú enough of a shock that she finally understood that  _ gentleness _ and  _ kindness _ was what made him beautiful, not his curls or his moss-green eyes. The kingdom began prospering under her care, and she named Liam - the former groundskeeper, still alive - her royal advisor. In time, she, too, found love, and her heart that had been hardened for so long finally allowed her true beauty to shine, her joyful singing filling the halls.

_ (And they all lived happily ever after.) _


End file.
